Page 188 of Where We Stay

“We’re good,” I admit. “Really good. I got lucky finding him.”

“I think you both did.” Rory’s expression softens. “My brother was angry at the world for a long time. He loves being Aspen’s dad, but somewhere along the way, he stopped believing he was allowed to want anything for himself.”

I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat.

“Then he met you,” she continues. “He’s lighter now. Happier. You didn’t fix him, B, but you reminded him there was more waiting for him when he was ready. So, thank you for loving him.”

“Bitch, now I’m crying.”

My eyes fill before I can stop them, and Rory puts her glass aside just as I launch myself across the couch to hug her.

Finding Dean was one thing.

Finding a family here too?

That’s something I’ll never take for granted.

I pull away and wipe beneath my eyes. “Anyway, enough about me. Let’s get back to your future husband.”

“I fucking hate you.”

We dissolve into laughter and finish the rest of the wine because, honestly, why wouldn’t we?

By the time Logan arrives to collect Rory, there’s absolutely no chance I’m driving back to Dean’s. Three glasses of wine in such a short period has left me warm, emotional and far too unsteady to get behind the wheel.

Once Rory and Logan leave, I curl up on the couch and message Dean.

ME: So, your sister needed girl time, which resulted in us drinking an entire bottle of wine. I probably shouldn’t drive.

Mr. Ashford: You’re not making me like my sister very much right now, Miss Morgan.

ME: I was just being a good friend, babe. I promise I’ll be over after school tomorrow. X

Mr. Ashford: Holding you to it, Blair. I love you.

ME: I love you too.

I smile at the screen before settling farther into the couch.

One night without Dean Ashford.

I can survive that.

Probably.

Thirty Eight

Dean

By two-thirty, I’ve replaced a set of brake pads, diagnosed a fucked alternator and listened to Knox complain about a customer who apparently thinks an oil change should take twelve minutes.

Now we’re leaning over the engine bay of a Subaru that’s been squealing every morning for the past week.

“You look like shit,” Knox says, watching me check the belt tension.

“Thanks.”

“Blair keep you up last night?”